
Class Fl Z / 

Book ■■■ ^, 



BOYHOOD LIFE 

IN i^—^ 



lOSSfK 



iicfi If »ii In, 

AS FOUND IN THE 
Memoirs of Rufus Rittenhouse. 



F^RICE, 15 cents. 



DUBUQUE, IOWA. 

KAS. 15. DORR, I5()C)K AND JOR PRINTER, 

i8Sa. 



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<<-^^\ 



PREFA CE. 



Kind friends have frequentl^y requested the author to place 
in book form a narrative of his early experience in pioneer 
life. In compliance with these desires he gives them in the 
following pages a short sketch of his boyhood life in Iowa 
fort\' 3'ears ago, hoping that such recital \vill prove not only 
interesting but profitable. Not wishing to weary, much 
w^hich might have been said has been omitted lest the reading 
thereof prove dull and incipid. To those who have thus 
shown their kind appreciation of the work many thanks. 

RUFUS RiTTEN HOUSE. 



Entered according to act of Conjiress, in tin; year 1880. by 

RUFUS RITTENIIOUSE. 
in the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington, D.C 



^<^-1-l1Q3 



LIFE OF RUFUS RITTENHOUSE, 



I was born in Hunderton County, New Jersey, in 1825. 
Mv earliest recollection is the han^^ing of a negro at Flem- 
ington, N. J. In my second year I entered school, and fin- 
ished my education at ten years. I was taught to read and 
write a little, that the world was round, and that there were 
other continents beside x\merica, but could never learn 
grammar. M}^ education thus finished, m}' father emigra- 
ted ro Iowa with his famih' and hopeful son me. 

In the year '36, after a few careful days travel in canal- 
boats, we reached Pittsburg, then a city of some five thou- 
sand, and waited there two days for a boat. Cincinnati 
was the next place of importance, ^^'ith about fifty thous- 
and population : Louisville was on the map, Cairo supposed 
to be. We reached St. Louis, a place of about twelve 
thousand, with Alton on the river a few miles above. Tnere 
were other v^illages as far up as Prairie du Chien. 

We arrived in Dubuque about May loth. My father 
and myself in company with other travelers climbed to the 
top of the blufis which over-looked the village. The town 
had been laid out for a city, and here and there were a few 
scattering log huts as far up a Sixth Street. Two families 
moved into the onU' vacant house — a log hut corner Sixth 
and Main — nine souls in all, for which my father paid $15 a 
month. A few days after he was taken sick with fever, 
and as our means were limited, to us it was a time of sore 
distress. When he recovered he obtained employment as 
superintendent in the erection of a saw^-mill, ten miles west 
of the village of Dubuque. 

The P^ourth of July was duly celebrated b}' the few citi- 
zens of the place in a grand style, Small pigs were cut in 
halves and roasted, and with green peas and beans every 
one fared sumptuously who luid the nimble fifty cents. As 



BOYHOOD LIFE IN IOWA 



for mvself I got my dinner gratis, but not until I had done 
errands and work enough before, and promised that I wo'd 
do more afterwards. 

Before this my father having dealt in patent rights, and 
swamp lands below Philadelphia, and bought Indian claims 
in Wisconsin of Jonathan Carver's heirs, now m.oved to the 
country,and as he was engaged in building a mill for others 
he conceived the idea of erecting one for himself. He pur- 
chased a claim with a "promise to pay;" also a horse and 
cow. 1 shall never forget the place he moved on. It was in 
July, '36; the claim was on the middle fork of the Little 
Maquoketa, on the south branch near the blutl'which comes 
down to the creek, and about one-third of a mile west of 
where the north fork comes in, at the foot of Golaspie Hill. 
It was quite a stream, large enough for me to tish chubs 
out of, with which we had a good many fr}- s. Will try to 
describe the place — log hut plastered outside and in between 













■'J</uiHS»«r;(a:--JJiii 



View of mv father's house in 1836. 

the logs with clay; might have been.iifteen feet square: a 
large chimnev at one end; floor made of puncheons, that is 
small po]ilar trees halved with the flat side up : doors were 
made out of same material, hung on wooden hinges to suit: 



FORTY YICAliS AciO. 



once build a tire and you were never out, particularly in 
winter time. I have seen better houses than ours was, one 
end all chimne}', with doors opposite each other large enough 
to drive a yoke of oxen through wMth a log. Several logs 
would be drawn into the house in this way when the doors 
would be closed, and a good tire would be built; if any logs 
were left, sit down upon them in the absence of chairs. — 
The roof of our house was covered with clapboards, with 
ridge poles three feet apart. I recollect mother saying, "And 
is this the Northwest Territory?" for it was so laid down 
on the map — "Is this where you have brought me to live?" 

We had a neighbor who lived about a mile below us, by 
the name of Captain Dement. About a mile above us 
there was a little village of some twenty families. Duran- 
go was the name of the place; it was a mining camp, and 
its history since has only been desolation; but few except 
myself know where it was. There were two men living 
in a cabin around the Hill by the name of Captain George 
and Captain Dubois; the\' had no occupation in particular. 

Rattlesnakes were numerous in that section of country, 
and it was a frequent occurrence to find one in the 
house, and sometimes even in your bed. Captain De- 
ment, who had been bitten two or three times, told mv fath- 
er he did not consider them dangerous, as he had always 
cured himself with nothing but an application of salt. My 
cautious mother now made me carr}^ a bag of salt for all 
that summer, but I was not bitten. 

In those days captains were numerous; every man of 
fifty was a captain ; he had either whipped a negro to death 
or shot an Indian, or shot at one. I had a kind of distaste, 
fear and respect for those captains — all at the same time. 
One day Captain Dubois came from round the* hill to see 
us, and as he had once been across the State of Jersey, m}- 
father and he soon became fast friends, and as he gave my 
mother a quarter of venison she was disposed to think well 
of him. He frequently borrowed my fathers flint-lock ri- 
fle, and we were -^.eldom without venison. After a time I 
became used to those captains. My father frequentl\' sent 
me round the hill on errands, say three hundred yards. — 
Captain George had an old fusee that had lost everything 
except flint, cock and trigger, which he gave me as apres- 



BOYHOOD LIFE IN IOWA 



ent. I snapped it around considerable, much to the dis- 
pleasure of my mother, who thought I was learning the 
use of lire-arms too soon in life, and I was compelled to re- 
turn to Captain George, much against my will, his valua- 
ble present, and content myself for a longer time with bow 
and arrow, and as I came near putting out my sister's eye 
with the arrow, it havingf struck one inch below the eveball 
and lodged fast my enraged mother gave me a good licking 
and burned up my bow leaving me nothing to amuse mv- 
self with. 

It was late in the fall; I was in their cabin watching Cap- 
tain George fry venison on the coals, which he drew out. 
I was expecting an invitation to dine when another captain 
arrived whom I had never seen; he had a ]ug of whiskey- 
with him. I did not like his looks; I trembled from head 
to foot, and would have run, but he was between me and 
the door. He looked at me once or twice, and then said: 
" Do you know who I am ? I am Captain Ducellers ; go 
and tell your father Captain Ducellers is here. I obe3'ed 
with alacrity; I was only too glad to get away. I never 
went back fearing Captain Ducellers was on a visit, till the 
morning of the 14th of January, the day of m}^ father's 
death. He was thirtj^-six years of age. 

I was sent for help. My mother had but just risen from 
a sick bed, having had an attack of pleuris}'. iVbout a 
month before mv father's death, the youngest of the fam- 
ily, an infant, died. My father and sister were buried near 
Old Durango; the spot is now covered with timber, and 
but few know of that resting-place of the dead, but I shall 
alwavs tenderlv cherish the memory of a father who was 
ever kind to his children. Captain Dubois officiated at the 
funeral, a dozen or more being present. 

A few da3'S later m}^ mother moved to Dubuque, where 
a year after she married a man whom I shall call Squire 
Kile. Ten years later in the same place, while hunting, I 
found Captain Dubois cutting cordwood for Captain Par- 
ker. It was the meeting of an old friend; inquired about 
Captain George ; he was not much interested in the subject, 
but told me he thought he had gone to Wisconsin or Mich- 
igan ; thus ended the interview. Captain Ducellers, who 
had lost a small bit off of his nose in some engagement. 



FORTY YEARS AGO. 



and had many a battle wiih his whiskey ju<,s liad left for 
J- arts unknown, , and was no more a terror to myself, tlio* 
he might be living a dread to other }'outh equally as timid. 

At that time many captains were arriving: some had a 
little gold, and a few Jean Lafa^'ette's armament to guard 
it, viz: a cutlass, bowie-knife or pistol, whose very pres- 
ence would awe you into respect; not the neat little revol- 
ver with which one might be pierced a number of times, 
with even then good chances of recovery, but a solid argu- 
ment, which would cause one to die easy. While it was 
refreshing to see the gold piled up, yet at the same time to 
see such a weapon as just described on one side and a huge 
bowie or cutlass on the other, took all the pleasure away, 
and with such surrounding 1 never remained long enough 
to see anyone hurt tho' that did sometimes occur. 

About the year 1838, a dispute arose between the peo- 
ple of the Northwest and the vSiate of Missouri as to the 
boundarvline; excitement ran high; two or three companies 
were raised to tight Missouri; Squire Kile talked of en- 
listing, but he didn't; it was amicably settled without loss 
cf life. 

At this time settlers from other places began to ftock in : 
some crossed the river at Dubuque, others below : a few 
brought horses, while more brought oxen. In Jackson 
Countv, some twenty miles south of Dubuque, is a wood- 
land territory, where are a large number of maple trees, 
seeming to Invite the settler to the pleasant task of su- 
gar making; game was also in abundance for the sports- 
man; a good place to make one a home, and numbers did 
settle there. Others did better by settling on the edge of 
the timber and making large farms. In a short time these 
woods became a rendesvous for horse-thieves. The settlers 
formed a vigilance committee. Any stranger found with a 
horse, was suspicioned, and if he could give no good ac- 
count of himself his hour had come. Fancy yourself in a 
new countr}^ looking for a place to reside: you are on the 
onlv road for twenty miles (perhaps fifty) and come upon 
a man hanging so high his heels could'nt kick dirt, with the 
buzzards flying around him; a few miles farther on you see 
another, and then others; you would wonder where that 
road lead to. It had the desired elfect; the Jubusites were 



8 BOYHOOD LIFE IN IOWA 

soon driven from the country or left of their own accord, 
and the Happy Land o' Canaan was once more open to 
the settlers, who soon arrived. 

At this time occurred the most important period of my 
life. Squire Kile concluded to put me to service; I had to 
cut wood, and as the cihmney was not as large as some I 
had the more wood to cut, and was often told to keep plen- 
ty on hanci; I had also to feed three yoke of oxen and a 
span of ponies not larger than a good-sized dog. In win- 
ter we traveled three miles to the timber to make rails, and 
in summer I drove the oxen to brake prairie. The house 
we lived in was ver}^ similar to the one m}^ father died in, 
but not so large, being about twelve feet square; the sec- 
ond year a similar addition was made; it was covered with 
clapboards and ridge poles; when it rained one might as 
well be out doors as inside, the clapboards being so much 
thicker on one side that it caused an additional overflow of 
water. It seemed as though I was a god-send to Squire 
Kile; if hunting up the oxen in the morning, I got wet to 
the skin with the dew, it was nothing to him. I soon how- 
ever^ learned to despise him though I stayed with him five 
years. I soon learned to mow, hay, rake and bind after a 
a cradle. I don't think I had more than a dollar during my 
stay; had one Spanish quarter which I buried, and kept 
out of circulation for a time of need. It was buried in a 
root house where I could put my Hnger on it at any time 
and I watched with suspicion an}^ one enter there; mother 
particularly, lest she might discover and put it to use; as 
for Squire Kile, had he known that I had coin, he would 
have obtained it by force rather than lost it. I afterwards 
had two pieces more — we called them " tipennybits " — 
Squire Kile found but never returned them — he was not 
Squire at this time nor for ten years after. I thought of 
all the money the future would bring me, and such contem- 
plation was pleasant. As the Squire had taught me work, 
I soon became very industrious; I had a little garden, and 
raised some onion seed, but thought before I found a pur- 
chaser it would be a year or two old ; but I did find one pur- 
chaser, who promised to pay; he did not sow it then, he was 
only contemplating ; he was a tradesman, working in Po- 
tosi Wisconsin ; he came back in the fall; I followed him all 



FORTY YEARS AGO. 



around supposing he had a large amount of money with him, 
and that he would leave some with me but he did not as he 
had nothing to divide ; he excused himself about the money 
he owed for onion seed, but agreed to pay surely next time 
and he did, two "fipeny-bits'' — the very identical money, 
Squire Kile never gave me any account of. William Lewis 
was the man who bought the seed, whom I shall say more 
about hereafter. We then li\'ed some seven miles west of 
the village of Dubuque. About this time George Shannon 
settled in the neighbor-hood ; George was no farmer : he had 
been in a store a 3'ear or two, and wound up witli nothing. 
This was the fall of 1839. ^ ^^^ worked faithfully for the 
Squire all summer, and I conceived the idea of making a 
stake for myself; there was a small strip of grass at the up- 
per end of a long ravine, which we neglected to cut; it was 
wild grass perhaps one-third flag; the frost had browned 
it some. Thither I went with my sc3'the, and soon made 
quite a showing ; it did not need any curing ; age and frost 
had cured it for me; I pitched it together and the next thing 
was to find a purchaser; after hunting around considerable I 
thought of Shannon ; told him what a fine lot of hay I had, 
aud as he had none I prevailed upon him to look at it. There 
vvere perhaps two tons ; I wanted a dollar as I had worked 
two or three days; and thought George was full of money, 
he having been a merchant; he profered me fifty cents, 
but just then did not have the money; rather than miss a 
trade I let him have it; it was a bad road to George's house; 
after a few upsets and not being very persevering George 
concluded he had hay enough ; leaving a part of his purchase 
behind; in a week or so I got uneasy about the money and 
made a square demand, but he did not have it; if anybody 
owed me any thing in those days I was careful about it, but 
no one ever owed me any more while I stayed with the 
Squire. It soon became rumored that George was bad pay ; 
I called on him weekly, still no money ; he always promised 
faithfully he would pay ; I began to call on him twice a week, 
and waited on him faithfully three months; I watched the 
house on Sunday: and in the middle of the week when my 
chores were done I would visit him by night; George found 
out that whatever he could do with others, he had better 
settle with me, so he oflered to give me fifty cents worth of 



rO BOYHOOD LIFE IN IOWA 

coffee ; — some four pounds ; coffee was worth eight pouuds 
to the dollar, and sugar twenty at that time; I consulted my 
mother on the matter, and she advised me to take the coffee, 
which I did, and thus George cancelled the debt. My moth- 
er was a fine stalwart woman; she could often be seen 
riding across the prairies on horse-back with a basket of 
butter on one horn of the saddle and a basket of eggs on the 
other, which she readily exchanged for groceries. In due 
time Shannon's colTe'e was used up, and with the Squire's 
advice I got nothing. About this time William Lewis the 
Union Seed-man came to be more permanently with us. The 
Squire abandoned the place where we were living and built a 
new log house with hewn logs and plastered with lime mor- 
tar, and a good lot of clapboards on the roof, and as he had 
forty acres under plow began to be comfortable; he also 
built a large log barn.. Lewis was a great help to the Squire 
in building; he took up a claim a mile or so north-east; 
when he worked a day for the Squire I was to work anoth- 
er for him ; Lewis also helped in ha3ang and harvest as the 
Squire had been raising v.'heat; Ley'is also cut a rick of 
hay vv'ith my help. The season closed and it turned cold; 
Lewis concluded to market his hay; I was sent along as 
help-meet; we loaded up and started, making two upsets 
within a mile which finished the first day; but Lewis was 
not like George Shannon, easily discouraged: the next day 
we did better for we went three miles farther with two more 
upsets; this ended the second day; but we were yet three 
miles from town. Lewis on the third dav made a new rack : 
he found out that what might do to haul hay on the Squire's 
farm would not do to go to Dubuque ; the new rack was 
built so wide, that when she undertook to upset, it was no 
go, for our sled was not more than a foot high, and with a 
good pry, we could keep her afloat, which we did; after 
some debate we concluded, to go down the Lang worthy 
Hollow, which showed that our judgment was good, for we 
arrived safe in town by one o'clock; Lewis found a pur- 
chaser for his hay, who gave him a dollar and a half; I fol- 
lowed him around with the expectation that he might divide, 
but he did not; he never had much more mone}' those times 
than myself, but this time he had a dollar and fifty cents 
more. This was in the year '40; I was then fifteen years 



FORTY YEARS AGO. II 



old; Lewis was over twenty, while the Squire was not 
over twenly-four; Lewis was not larger than m3'self, whi;e 
the Squire was over six feet three inches, straight as an ar- 
row, but could have crawled through a large auger hole — 
tliat is, two of them with a mortise betv»^een ; he could cradle 
five acres of grain one day, and cut ever so much grass the 
day following. When he got his new house and barn up 
he became very independent, and though he was three 
davs raising them, he never went to help his neighbors raise 
while I staved with him, though he might have done bet- 
ter afterwards; if anybodv came to help him I was sent 
to pay it back as a compliment. Lewis had some tools of 
his own", and could hew logs good and do lots of other 
work, but could get nothing from the Squire except my- 
self. In return Lewis began to use me to the best advan- 
tage he could; so we went to the woods and cut wagon 
hubs, some two or three feet long; I do not know how 
many, but manv m.ore than he ever made up. We felled 
much oher timber, such as oak, maple, elm, and some liick- 
ory, which we sunk in the creek in divers places — so manv, 
that some of the timber is under water, and seasoning yet; 
I think I could find some that he forgot and lost. Some 
of his wagons are running vet; I will not attempt to de- 
scribe them, for thev are all right unless vou lose a linch- 
pin; should anyone meet one of them on the road, he wo'd 
much prefer giving them good lea-way rather than to run 
risk of locking hubs. When in New Jersey, three years 
ai^o, I saw some of the same wagons not more than five 
miles from where Lewis learned his trade, so I knew he 
was a skilled workman. 

I now began to think seriously of leaving the Squire; 
Lewis was my only councilor; to him I confided all mv 
secrets, and many sorrows, and he never betrayed me, and 
his advice was alvvavs consoling — that I better leave the 
Squire to drive his own oxen and hunt them up. I had 
never been allowed the use of fire-arms; the Squire had 
repeatedly refused me, saying that a hunter never made a 
good farmer; perhaps he was right, but his ideas were not 
to m\^ taste; my mother also thought I better not have the 
use of a gun, and so while game was plenty, my ambition 
was hampered. The road to pleasure and wealth was to 



12 BOYHOOD LIFE IN IOWA 

leave the Squire, and a 3^ear later, the spring of '42, 1 did so. 

A rather ludicrous incident occurred the year before I 
left home. The Squire and I had been plowing prairie all 
day ; I had broken so much ground for the Squire and oth- 
ers for whom he contracted that I had become miserable: 
one yoke of oxen traveled very slow, and all the w^hipping 
I could do proved of no avail in hurrying them ; I determin- 
ed on revenge; having gone to the house the Squire left me 
to unyoke as usual ; I then tied their tails together, think- 
ing it would make no difference in feeding for cattle that 
had been so slow, but it did, for each one took a start in 
earnest; one lost about six inches of his tail; they went out 
of my sight so quick I stood amazed; next morning I found 
them^ the tail of one hanging on to the fastest traveler; I 
got back to the house before the Squire w^as up, and taking 
a butcher knife I cut it oft'. When the Squire started to 
plow, he wondered what was the matter with his ox, he 
bled so profusely; I told him I had seen some wolves that 
morning, and thought they had bit it oft', but that story 
would not take ; although he had lost some calves and pigs 
by wolves, he could not believe his ox would be lost in the 
same manner. I kept serious about the matter as I was 
afraid those long arms of his would give me a castigation, 
as I had had some experience of that kind when 1 lirst 
came into his hands. 

At this time I plowed a few furrows 'round a small part of 
the Charley Haines farm, which I said should be mine, bnt I 
soon after" left the Squire, and my claim fell into other 
hands a valuable possession. But the time of my delivery 
arrived. The Squire concluded to build a large double 
stone chimney; I made mortar and Lew^is carried rock ; as 
I watched the mason put stone together I longed to be a 
mason; my mother seemed favorable to the project, and 
finally prevailed on the Squire to let me go, although he 
thought I better stay ; she told him my brother Judson. al- 
though eight years younger, would soon be able to take 
my place. The mason was willing to take me, and having 
seen the Squire comfortable in a new. log house, a large 
barn, and other improvements in which I had given a help- 
ing hand, I took my departure. Lewis left soon after and 
worked on his claim where I found him a year or two later. 



FORTY YEARS AGO. 1 3 



The reader will please go back with me two years to our 
home in '38. My grandfather had come from New Jersey 
brin<rin<r some money with him to start us in a western 
country; he left us three children tiye hundred dolhirs and 
loanea the Squire fiye hundred more to enter his land with, 
and that was re-paid; ours being partially returned minus 
the interest when we became of age. My grandfather 
stayed with us two or three wrecks ; he had been very good 
to us, and after father's death if writing to mother, he sent 
her a ten or twenty dollar bill. Mother did all she could 
to make his visit pleasant; she and my uncle went with him 
to my father's grave, and to the old house where we lived 
when father died. In looking through the house a rattle- 
snake's head was found sticking through the puncheon 
floor; my uncle set up a sign, "Beware of rattlesnakes.*'— 
Soon after my grandfather left us. My sister's death made 
mother very loneh' as her onlv help w^as gone. 

At this time Illinois discovered that sinners had left and 
crossed the river. She determined on the rescue. Peter 
Cartwright and a goodly number of others held a confer- 
ence and sent one of their number across to us; I shall nev- 
er forget him; he was a long, lank, lean, hungry looking 
fellow, carried saddle-bags, and his horse was lank like 
himself; he brought his testament and hymn-book, crying 
"x\ voice in the wn'lderness, prepare ye the way of the Lord, 
make his paths straight." In a sparseh- settled country in 
five or six miles there may have been a dozen or more fam- 
ilies, all godly people. Among the number were. Brothers 
.William Morrison, Sidney Blackwell (^my uncles Wm.Stra- 
ten. Harden Nowlen, Father Simeon Clark, Father Brady, 
Bro. John Paul and Mother Casteele, also a family b^• the 
name of Jordan. Other settlers lived in the neighborhood, 
of whom I knew nothing. The good brother preached a 
sermon every other week either at the house of Bro. John 
Paul or Father Brady, and sometimes at Father Simeon 
Clarks, who also was a preacher at times, of whom I shall 
say more hereafter. We had many pleasant gatherings of 
perhaps thirty or forty persons; occasionally a big man, 
"Bun. Jordan," came dressed entirely in buckskin, which I 
envied him. 

When father died he left two or three suits of L*"ood 



1 4 BOYHOOD LIFE IN IOWA 

clothes, and as I grew fast mother altered them to suit me. 
My coat was ornamented with brass buttons which was 
the fashion then, and as I became a regular attendant at 
the meetings I looked upon m3'Self with glowing pride, 
that I was better than other boys of the settlement; some 
old women thought of me as a favorite suitor who might 
sometime marry one of their girls, while the preacher 
thought I might some day be a preacher like himself as I 
vv^as dressed in a suit as good, if not better, than his own. 
We often had refreshing revival times, principally in the 
winter, our quarterly meetings were largely attended by 
people from other settlements. I was a regular attendant 
and sometimes during protracted spells of prayer, while 
some brother would be directing the Lord I fell asleep; 
wi h the general uprising, I awoke long enough to sleep 
the sounder when we knelt again. Sometimes we sang 
"Come ihou Fount of ever}- blessing;" at other times, 
'• How tedious and tasteless the hours when Jesus no lon- 
ger I see;" I oft times hum those tunes with pleasure yet 
in the absence of songs such as " Yankey Duran "' or " Side 
of the Hill." In the summer of 1838 or '39, we had a 
camp-met ting ii a grove near Pe-er L. Sharp's place; it 
was largely attended, many coming from Dubuque and 
the adjacent settlements; the rain came down in torrents 
but notwithstanding a great ou'-pouring of the spirit was 
manifest. I was soon converted; though I was voung I 
knew I was a sinner; the power of the Lord was so great- 
ly kindled for miles around, that a Dutchman and an Irish- 
man were converted — Peter Bony and Felix O'Flaherty.. 
Peter has remained among the faithful, but alas poor Felix- 
soon sank below his first estate, and is not. All in the 
neighborhood were converted excep'. two or three families 
which were looked upon as bad by their neighbors. It was 
our cus'om in those days to watch the old year ou- and the 
new one in,r>nd whi.^e we were fully de ermined to do better 
the coming year I am fearful that we did worse. I watched 
one year rut at Bro. John Paul's and the next at Father 
Simeon Clark's; I do not know which year I did the best, 
but I did nothing very bad. 

Father Simeon Clark in those days never wore anything 
but a red handkerchief on his head — I never saw him with 



FORTV YEARS AGO. 



anything else and believe no one ever did. He was an ex- 
cellent rifle-shot and a good bee-hunter; his residence some 
ten miles west of Dubuque, was built near the head of 
a deep vale, in a sort of horse-shoe; .good springs on either 
side of the house went trickling down the valley some three- 
fourths of a mile to the south fork of the Little Maquoketa, 
whose general course was north-east, a stream so crooked 
that were 3'Ou to follow its windings five miles you would 
have traveled twenty-live. The hills on either side were 
so high that no ordinar}' gun would reach to the top — if 
there was one it was one that afterwards came into my 
hands, of which I shall speak hereafter, but I never tried 
it at that range. The house was situated at an altitude of 
some six hundred feet above the level of the great Missis- 
sippi valley. It was a heavy woodland section of country 
for miles; a small strip of table-land had been cleared a 
hundred feet or more above the house, and some two or 
three yards south near the dividing ridge. Deer were 
plenty, and black wolves were seen now and then; other 
species ol game vv^ere very numerous, especiall}' the cata- 
mount, and now and then the distant cry of the panther 
could be heard; occasionally a bald eagle could be seen fly- 
ing over or perched on some high tree in search of pre}^, 
; nd the dismal hoot of the owl could be heard in the twi- 
light. Father Clark's house may have been fifteen feet by 
twenty-five, one end nearly all chimne}', at the opposite end 
stood two beds, puncheon floors, doors the same, roof cov- 
ered with clapboards and ridge poies, small cock-loft over- 
head. It was in the spring of '40, I was at the house to 
hear him preach; puncheon benches had been brought in 
as was" the custom, to seat all who might come; there may 
have been twentv persons present — four or live men, some 
long gaunt women, and the balance principally children; 
around the fire-place hung a dozen or more great venison 
hams swinging to and fro, drying for a time of need. Here 
Father Clark delivered his discourse, a master^ one. I 
have many times since listened to more eloquent discourses 
but never to any so impressive. The reader will p mse for 
a moment and Turn to the twelfth chapter and tweity-fiflh 
verse, where he will find in Paul's advice to the Hebrews, 
"See that ye refuse not him that speaketh." Father Clark 



i6 



BOYHOOD LIFE IN IOWA 



dwelt on the depravity of mankind, that all men were sin- 
ners, and finally wound up by saying that perhaps not more 
than two or three in that little assembly would be saved; 
"twas a solemn time; Father Clark and Bro. John Paul 
made two that I was sure would be saved, but as he said 
two or three might be saved, I thought Brother Morrison 
might.make up the three; I looked upon the balance as 
lost: as for myself I had done nothing to merit salvation; 
true I had given the Spanish quarter that I had hid in the 




Father Simeon Clark preaching. 

root house, which my grandfather had given me, for the 
conversion of the heathen, and though I had taken the 
preacher for my mother to cook dinner for, I gave myself 
up for lost. I went awav firmly resolved to tell no more 
lies about my grandfather in New Jersev, to whose prince- 
ly fortune I would soon be sole heir. Sometime after this 
I again attended service at Father Clark's; he was not the 
preacher this time, but during class he told the brethren 
that he had a remarkable vision that he would die some- 
where about the 14th of August that year; as the time 
was set so exact, we all watched, and though he was like 
good old Simeon, ready and willing to die, for his eyes had 
seen the salvation of the Lord, yet" his time had not come, 



FORTY YEARS AGO. 1 7 

and though he had the vision of his death thirty-nine years 
ago, I found him last summer, hale and hearty, minus the 
handkerchief, the postmaster of the enterprising village of 
Farley, twenty miles west of Dubuque. 

Many of those good men of that day have since passed 
away, while but few remain whose lives and example would 
be well worthy of our imitation particularly Father Simeon 
Clark. 

Nothing else worth}' of notice occurred while I stayed 
with the Squire. The reader wdll follow me to my city 
home w4th Father Rogers, the mason ; I fared much better 
in my new home; as he frequently went hunting himself, 
he most always took me along, hi winter time I some- 
times earned a little money by sawing wood; which I put 
in my pocket. Some days when he made boots, he would 
-arm me with his gun and send me out to hunt grouse, of 
which I generally brought in a good showing. I'here was 
not much building done in Dubuque then, two or three 
buildings a season, but b}^ the time the first season was 
over, I fancied no such mechanic as myself was any where ^ 
round. About this time George Shannon came to me, and 
said his mother was tired of the country and was coming 
to town to live; that he wanted me to go and mend the 
back of a chimne}- down on First street near the Cathedral ; 
so I went down two or three ditierent evenings to work by 
candle light; I was so pleased with my work when it was 
done that I felt thankful to George he had applied to me, 
and I never thought of charging him anything for it. — 
Sometime after meeting George one day he said, " Don't I 
owe you something?" 1 told him 1 thought not but he insist- 
ed and oftered me tifty cents, which I took. 

The second year found me with a new boss, Franklin 
Anson, who allowed me pretty much the same privilege — to 
hunt some and when I was not at work for him, I sawed 
wood for others to get money, with which I generally 
bought powder and shot. I sawed up a lot of wood for 
one Gen. Gehon's wife (Gen. Gehon was Marshal of the 
Territory) and carried it into her shed; the good woman 
came of her own accord and gave me a tive-franc, worth a 
dollar at that time. I never had such a set-up as that be- 
fore and 1 thought her the best person that ever lived. 



1 8 BOYHOOD LIFE IN IOWA 

' Twas in the spring of '43 in March, the coldest winter 
that had been known for a great many seasons before, and 
none have been so cold since; teams crossed the river at 
Dubuque as late as the 6th da}^ of April : old Father Mil- 
ler ransacked his Bible from Daniel to Revelations, and 
said the days of the world were about numbered; the tail 
of a great comet alread}' sat upon the far side of the earth 
which we all could see, and stood up over the western hor- 
izon so high and lofty that it looked as though it might fall 
on us an}' time and iDurn us up; man}' godly people had 
their robes of ascension ready to start off as soon as the 
alarm of fire \vas given; it was I who gave the alarm in 
Dubuque ; I liad been casting shot in considerable quantities 
and had made a wooden ladle, and by putting some coals 
on top I could melt a pound or so of lead, and with an as- 
sistant shaking a seive over a bucket of water would pour 
.the lead on the seive; I had all sizes and kinds of shot — 
some were flat on one side and some on both, and others 
flat on all sides — such as I did not like I re-cast, but in the 
absence of money I could use my own shot. Some one 
made me a present of a gun, one which Gen. Washington 
had taken from Lord Cornwallis. It had already crossed 
the frontier ^and killed Tecumseh, and the Mississippi in 
search of Blackhawk; the gun was good yet, but some 
'smith, thinking to make an improvement upon the flint- 
lock, on the side of the barrel where the pan of the flint- 
lock was, made a sort of a little touch-hole, and the ham- 
mer, a kind of prod, fell into this hole; you would raise 
your hammer for ready, drop in a little pill, and lire; she 
would sometimes miss the lirst time, but would generall}' 
go oft' after two or three trials, but if you put in many lit- 
tle pills you would stand a chance to get burned a little 
over the eyes. 1 found one store that had some pills, put 
up in goose quills, perhaps iifty in a quill, each pill about 
the size of a pinhead; 1 took all that was on hand, and 
with the opening of navigation sent to St. Louis for more. 
During my residence with Squire Kile, Dubuque had add- 
ed a few houses as far up as Tenth street, but none above 
Eleventh, except James and Edward Langworthy's; a small 
two-story frame house stood on Iowa street above Ninth, 
side of Ex-mayor Stout's residence — it was occupied by 



FORTY YEARS A(;o. I9 



one Marshall, a Millerite; Samuel Dixon lived on the cor- 
ner of Main and Tenth; Dixon had enclosed three lots with 
a ti((ht board fence of oak lumber, tive feet high, boarded 
up endways. Abov-e Tenth 'street on the corner lived Jos- 
eph Ogilby, and my tirst boss, Robert Rogers, lived next, 
while Gen. Lewis lived contented by himself in a log house 
the last in town, below Fred Moser's store. My new boss, 
Franklin Anson, lived on Locust street, west side, one lot 
below Tenth street. There w^ere one or two houses abo\'e 
Tenth street, and one above and one below on BluiY street, 
the balance being open common. I concluded to test m\- 
new gun, and having put in a handful of powder I put in a 
handful of shot, all sizes, part slugs; I wished to give her 
a good trial, and thought if she could cross Locust street, 
she would kill birds, but if she would cross the first lot one 
hundred feet, and an alley, thirty feet more, to Dixon's 
fence, she would kill big game, so I set up a mxark on Dix- 
on's fence, and rested my gun on my boss' fence, raised the 
prod and fired. It seemed as though with the discharge of 
that ordnance, all creation round there woke up. Gen. 
Lewis was just then taking an e^'ening walk down Main 
street for his health ; part of the charge stopped with Dix- 
on's fence, but the greater part went on, crossing Main 
street every side of the General, next lot and alley and part 
of next, fetching up against Marshall's house, breaking 
some panes of glass in the top story windows The cries 
of Gen. Lewis soon brought help, for he hollered lustily; 
he reallv thought he was hurt. As soon as assistance ar- 
rived, round Dixon's fence some five or six men went tr^•- 
ing to find the miscreant who had fired the shot. The gun 
upset me toward Blufi street, and though I was the most 
hurt, I picked up the gun and run around the bluft' and hid 
among the rocks behind where the Lorimier House now 
stands; a young juvenile told the men who fired the gun, 
so they gave no further chase, but entered complaint tomv 
boss that if he did not look after me, they would. The}' 
had scarcely gone when Marshall came round; he told my 
boss he was on his knees at devotion when he heard the 
shot break the windows over his head, that I ought to be 
looked after, as he did not wish to be disturbed again, and 
he left. I soon got cold sta3ing among the rock, and hun- 



20 BOYHOOD LIFE IN IOWA 

ing up the boy who was with me when the shot was fired, 
learned that Gen. Lewis was not hurt, and then ventured 
into the house. My boss told me what threats had been 
made, but seemed pleased that I had given them all such a 
scare, and particularly Marshall on Millerite day. For a 
long time I dreaded to meet Gen. Lev^'is, aitd -though I met 
him in church everv Sabbath I always managed to sit as 
far away as possible; when I went hunting I would go 
up Bluff street till I got out of town. When I fired the 
shot I supposed I was out of town, but as I had now learned 
better I never tried ranging on Dixon's fence after Millerite 
day. I ventured round and over the hills in quest of some 
beast that I expected to find and slay, that it might be said 
that I was a hero. 

My boss boarded me a week or two before we were 
ready to go to work, for I had but just commenced to live 
with him when I fired the big shot, and as the spring came 
slowly I concluded to go and see how the Squire and moth- 
er were, to get board but not to work. The snow^ was yet 
on the ground in April, '43. I knew where Wm. Lewis' 
claim lay, and as he lived on my road going to the Squires 
I concluded to call on him. After hunting around I struck 
a trail w^hich led down into a ravine, and presently came 
upon his cabin among a little clump of Burr oak trees; he 
appeared to have settled dow^n there to keep out of the cold 
more than anything else; he had not as yet done anything 
permanent. I found him sick but not very bad; he was 
waiting for somebody to die in New Jersey. After my ar- 
rival he soon became cheerful, and as I had a grouse or 
two we soon had a good supper of corn-bread, baked po- 
tatoes, fried birds and pork mixed up. Being in no hurry 
I remained with him over night; I pitied him,he was alone 
and lonely, hardly knowing why he was there, only that he 
Wc^. I found his axe, but the head of it was broken oft', 
leaving about two pounds firmly clinched around the handle 
and this he managed to cut wood with. He has since done 
w^ell, entered a large lot of land, and is comfortable. The 
next day I went over to the Squires, but I went shooting 
all around the place before going to the house, so as to let 
him know that I was a hunter and out of his jurisdiction. 
I stayed a week or two, but was very careful about doing 



FORTY YEARS AGO. 21 

anv work, as was m}- custom when I went to see him ; he 
soon found out my notion, that a tradesman was something 
better than a farmer. I did not stay long, but went to work 
with riiy new boss, and things went along well that year. 
I always carried my gun with me, when I got a chance to 
go hunting , for as no one had one like her in town, I had 
the greater pride to be the owner of so valuable a weapon, 
but sometime after in an unguarded moment I traded her 
off for something that was not so good. That was the 
last I saw of her till I saw her at the U. S. government 
building at Philadelphia in '76, but to follow her history to 
find how she got there would be quite a task; some gov- 
ernment agent must have been hunting up relics, and this 
he found a valuable one. 

I worked one year with one boss, the second year with 
another, and the third year was sent home to die of con- 
sumption, but I did not die, for I'm with you yet; the 
Squire's mother had come west to live, and she made me 
up a compound of liverwort and tar, and so I got well not- 
withstanding my boss' wife said I ought to die for going to 
sleep in church. 

I now went to work for my first boss, Robert Rogers, 
for a dollar a day, which was plenty, tho' I did not think so 
and the next year I turned out contractor, of which I will 
not weary the reader, giving only an instance or two. 
There was one Matthew Hayes who had worked hard and 
saved his dollars well; he boarded at the Squire's when I 
first made his acquaintance, and when I went out to see my 
mother and how the Squire was doing, Matthew would 
follow me around and tell me he was going to build a house 
and that I should build it for him. He bothered me so 
much that I had hard work to slide away from him. How- 
ever, in time he collected a lot of nigger-head rock, all sizes 
and all shapes — ^he had dug his cellar— and true to his word 
he came to me to build his house. He ofiered me 50 cents 
a perch, which was the price then, and as I had not seen 
the rock I bargained with Matthew, who was to make 
mortar for me. I took another mason along with me. I 
had not done much till Matthew began to find fault, take 
up that stone and turn it the other way. I soon had a deal 
of bother with Matthew ; for the more I turned the rock 



22 BOYHOOD LIFE IN IOWA 

the more trouble I had with him, thus : " I like the Dutch- 
man's work very well, but I don't like yours; and what 
will the people be saying when my house will be falling 
over my head." I listened to him until night, when I ask- 
ed for a settlement, which was forthcoming, and thus end- 
ed my contract with Matthew. * A week or two later I 
went down out of curiosity, to see how he was getting 
along with his house. He had got in with a mason who 
understood his business; if there was a frame to set, he 
set it in without asking anv questions. If Matthew came 
around, he was told to make up mortar and carry brick, 
and to hurry up. I went again a week or so later. Matthew 
was carrying brick: the bricklayers gave him plent}- of 
directions without allowing him anything to say about the 
house, only bring on the mortar and brick. And so I was 
hungr}- for Matthew's dollars, but didn't know how to 
handle him to get them. 

There was one Michael McGovern concluded to build 
a house; he had collected a fine lot of dirt}' sand and 
some brick that nobody else would have. His lot was on 
Bluff street little above the First Ward school house. 
Michael offered me thirteen sovereigns, which was thirteen 
sovereigns too little, but as I wished to establish myself as 
contractor I took the job. I had got near up with the first 
story, when Jim Reddin came riding along, in from the 
country. He stopped and said: '• Mr. McGovern, who 
is this vou have building your house? Shure he is no 
good; I know him very well; it is only last year he was 
working with Rogers, the mason; don't depend on him; 
turn him off;" and away went Jim in as much hurry as he 
came. I had got too far along to be choked ofi of Mi- 
chael's job, which was finished and is standing yet. A few 
more such contracts as McGovern's left me in a shape to 
dispose of a few lots on Fourteenth street, where I had in- 
vested with the money my grandfather had left me, and 
though I did better as a contractor later, I was strapped 
about the first year* I came of age. In 1845 or 1846, the 
land sales took place, when there was a general grabbing 
up. I was about of age, but as I had nothing to grab 
with, I still cared nothing for grabbing; but there were 
many that did. Some claims that had been abandoned a 



FORTY VEARS ago, 2^ 



year or two before were taken possession of l^y some new 
comer, and though the old claimant brought in his claim 
he seldom made it stick. Each claimant, old and new, 
picked his arbitrator, and the claimant who was the best 
talker generally succeeded in getting the claim. This was 
more particularly the case with mineral lots around the 
city. 

t)ubuque after this began to grow more permanently, 
and soon formed a nucleus around a center \\'here a great 
city has since been built. Still a great many good people 
refused to settle on account of the old Dubuque heirs claim 
which w^as settled a year or two later, when man}' came to 
reside more permanently, and many more will come as it is 
not yet too late. 

In the year '46 Florida and Iowa were admitted into the 
Union; while Florida has done well Iowa has done better, 
and has since become the garden of the world, but not- 
withstanding her rapid growth to a teeming population of 
a million and a half, the era of her great future is but just 
commenced. 

And now, lest I weary the reader I will bring this little 
narrative to a close. Should I seem to have been too per- 
sonal, those mentioned will pardon w^hat was really meant 
for a compliment. Others may seem to have been slighted 
but no slight is meant. Our common lot w^as "life, liberty 
and the pursuit of happiness." Let me, in conclusion, re- 
mind the reader that " Truth is stranger than hction," and 
that this story of my bo\'hood's experience may commend 
itself by its truth at leasl is the author's belief. 

Fond memories cling around my early boyhood day, 

When many a pleasure I found, in many a way. 

Frail youth who careless grew to manhood's hrst estate. 

Nor cared as yet to know his future fate. 

The autumn came with many a bee and some irathered 
naught but pride; 

While some that were better than me laid down and died. 

Spring will surely come again with lots of birds and flow- 
ers, 

And great big showers of rain fall on this world of ours; 

The world goes round and round and so must you and I, 

I'll not again be found, so I bid vou all good bye. 



.i^ic^;^-;.?^.;;5^s'^i^^''^^ V \ \ \ \ N^^-^-^^:^^-^K^\y^ 



BOYHOOD LIFE 




IN 



lOAA^A 




^^1.^ 



is FOUND IN THE 



Memoirs of Rufus Rittenhouse. 



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PRICE, 15 cents. 



DUBUQUE, IOWA. 

I'llAS. IJ. DORR, HOOK AM) jOH I'KIM KR, 

iSSo. 



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